Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Returning to the place, which your heart loves to call home, is always ecstatic.

The euphoria that was brewing inside me gushed in rhythm with the waves of the Arabian Sea that caressed Sreepuram along its western border, humming its monsoon-symphony. It may have sounded cacophonic and eerie to an outsider. For me, it was the rhythm divine.

Though God threw Adam and Eve out of Eden, he created many slices of heaven on earth. One of those heavenly slices was Sreepuram. With ponds, hillocks, coconut palms, extensive paddy fields and the Arabian Sea that sung lullabies, Sreepuram was a traveler’s dream. Even after the sun dived into the ocean after experimenting with myriad shades and hues on the horizon, many a traveler hesitated to move away from its serene beach. Every season brought out a different shade of beauty in my Sreepuram.

Opening the car windows, I breathed in the smell of freshly bathed soil with relish. The grey sky showered its greetings with tiny droplets that tickled and thrilled, while trickling down my extended palm. My heart joined in the celebration, meting out an ecstatic drum roll. A whole month in Sreepuram, while it looked radiant in rain drenched green. My prayers had at last come true after three long years. My hectic engineering course had chained me to Bangalore during all my previous semester breaks with exams, assignments, and site visits. Every summer, I missed Sreepuram.

By the time our car entered the courtyard of Grandmother’s house, the rain had strengthened. Grandmother, whom I called Ammamma, was waiting on the porch with an ear-to-ear grin. Even in this pouring monsoon, she appeared bright like a daisy on a sunny day, dressed in her spotless white cotton sari with her silver hair neatly pulled into a bun.

The moment the car stopped in the outer courtyard, I darted towards her, unmindful of the rain pouring down. How could I resist a chance to embrace the rain?

Grandma received me with a hug but immediately chided me.

“Oh Anu, you never change, do you? Running around like a whippet,” she said, inspecting my rain-kissed curls.

“Come on Ammamma, don’t scold. Couldn’t resist the temptation,” I said, and she tweaked my ears playfully for the crime committed by my tongue.

Following the aroma of the freshly made coffee that wafted in, to the dining room I went. Inspecting the casseroles, I found what I expected - Appam, thesoft rice pancake with lacy edges and a soft center, along with chicken curry. The chicken curry lured me with its heavenly aroma of spices cooked with the flavor of fried onions, garlic, ginger, tomato, and cilantro in coconut milk. The sight elicited a growl from my stomach.

“Ammamma, my stomach is rioting. Titanic can sink in my mouth now if it tried. The appam and chicken curry is so alluring. Let me start my attack,” I declared, pulling back the chairs, ready to devour as many Appams as possible.

“Ammamma, please, let me first fill my tummy.” I tried one last time in vain.

After a speedy dress change into dark blue Capri pants and a white top with lace trimmings, I sat down to calm my raging hunger.

“Mmmmm, what an appam Ammamma!! If you had given this to Shakespeare, he would have written a thousand sonnets about it,” I said, with closed eyes, while the appam dipped in spicy chicken curry romanced my taste buds.

She chuckled but urged me to finish eating and then talk. I obeyed her without much ado.

It was almost twilight. The sun had begun to wane its lights and a cool zephyr brought in the fragrance of blooming jasmines. The peel of the bell broke the silence, which had slowly settled in, after the initial hustle and bustle of vessels.

“Ah, who could that be?” asked Grandma getting up to answer the door.

“I will check, Ammamma, it might be the kids,” I said, referring to the kids’ gang, which gave me company during the holidays. I washed my hands and rushed to open the door.

Instead of the gang, a stranger stood on the portico with a small polythene bag in his hands. A salesperson, I assumed, inspecting the smartly dressed young man.

“Yes?” I asked, summoning up my most apathetic look.

“Isn’t Arundhati aunty here?” he asked. SoAmmamma was the one he sought. Was he a publisher or a journalist?

My grandmother, Arundhati Mukundan was an award winning poet and author. After my grandfather’s death seven years ago, she had gone into depression. Later on, one of my aunts had discovered a collection of poems Grandma had penned during her hours of darkness. After much coercing from her children, she had agreed to publish them. Her book had become an instant best seller and won the state award for literature that year. She had now added two more poem collections and a semi-autobiography to the list. Hence, publishers and journalists visited often.

“And you are?” I asked smiling at him. Before he answered, Grandma entered the portico to check up on the caller.

“Oh Arjun, It is you! Come in. So nice to see you again,” said she with a huge smile on her face. The stranger’s face too had lit up with a bright smile.

“I came to give you these tablets. They are from Vishal,” said the stranger passing the small carry bag to her.

The names Arjun and Vishal combined, rang a bell inside my brain. This is Arjun?! If I had it right, he was my cousin Vishal’s best friend, Dr. Arjun. The one who had been Vishal’s strength during the tense hours when Uma aunty, Vishal’s mom had underwent a critical operation to remove her inflamed gall bladder. The one whom Vishal said he trusted with his life. Arjun was the one who took over the routine checkups of Grandma, whenever Vishal was unavailable. Grandma had talked much about how well behaved and loving he was. Combined with Vishal’s bragging about his friend, the result was that I had developed an insane crush on him. Yes, without ever having beheld him. My interest in the visitor piqued a thousand times.

Standing before me was an immensely handsome youth. His hair was perfectly in place, his shirt without any creases even though it was late in the evening and his trousers perfectly fitted his long athletic looking legs. His dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, chiseled features, athletic body, and whitish complexion gave him the look of a Greek god. Even though I was 5’ 5”, I felt like a dwarf standing in front of him. Someone straight out of those romance books that I had read. Any sane girl would have fallen for him instantly if she were in my place. I was of course, sane.

“Thank You, Arjun. It is for Devi, my housekeeper Gopu’s wife. She had a headache and Gopu had gone to Bangalore. I was expecting Vishal to bring it. Been weeks he has dropped by,” she said, while I continued my stealthy scrutiny from behind her.

“He was on his way here. An emergency case came and he had to return to the hospital. I was coming this way, so I offered to help,” explained Arjun.

“That was so nice of you, Arjun,” said Grandma.

“Who is this, aunty?” enquired Arjun, gesturing towards me.

“This is my granddaughter Ananya. Anu, this is Vishal’s friend, Dr. Arjun. He is also a neighbor now,” said Grandma, conducting a mutual introduction.

“Hello Ananya, nice meeting you,” said Arjun, with a smile.

Impressed, I bestowed on him my best smile and greeted him back with a mild ‘Hi’.

“What do you do?”

“I am in the final year of engineering,” I said, and to my amazement, I was seized by a sudden attack of nervousness. Wasn’t it okay to be nervous when one was in the presence of one’s long time crush? Moreover, what a ‘crush’ it had turned out to be!

“Wow, Great!” he said.

“Come on inside son, have some tea.”

“No, Aunty. Thanks. I will leave now. Mum will be waiting,” said Arjun, walking down the portico steps. Huh, he couldn’t wait to escape!

Grandma and I watched as his white Toyota Corolla- pulled off from our gate, turned a corner, and moved out of sight.

“You said he is our neighbor. When did that happen?” I asked, while we returned to the dining table to finish our tea.

“Do you remember that plot in the east, where that old shop used to be? They constructed a new house in its place two years ago. He lives there with his mother. Poor boy, his father passed away last year in an accident.”

“But Ammamma, I remember you telling me that the plot belonged to a relative of yours, someone named Madhavan.”

“Yes, Yes, Rajashekhar, Arjun’s dad is his son. So we are distant relatives too,” said Grandma, helping herself to another cup of tea.

A group of three kids came in then, putting an end to our conversation by shouting, “Yippee…Anu is here,” and doing a sort of war dance around the table.

It was Anamika, Achyuth and Deepak, all three, members of my vacation gang. Anamika aka Ammu though only nine years old was the chatterbox of the gang. Achyuth aka Achu, her brother, older by three years was the genius of the group. Deepak their cousin was Achyuth’s age and looked almost like a twin to Achyuth.

“Anu, you have become so stylish and pretty! Just look at your hair. Wow, now you look like a cross between Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dixit,” declared Ammu, a big fan of Bollywood movies, walking around, and inspecting me closely.

I had allowed my short curly hair to grow out of its boyish bob-cut and had styled it last Christmas, in the layered style popularized by Madhuri Dixit. As my eyes were grayish green, similar to that of Aishwarya Rai, Ammu had given her verdict. I chuckled.

“Thanks cutie,” I said, and pinched her cheeks playfully making her squeal with laughter, “All three of you have grown so tall.”

These kids helped me re-live those days, when along with my four cousins, I had wreaked havoc in this place during our vacations. Though I had turned twenty last November, I loved being a child, which I became when I was with them.

With my cousins, Kishore, Navneeth, Naveen, and Vishal, all grown up and working, vacations had become a lonely affair, until I had found these kids for company during my school vacation six years ago. The time spent in Sreepuram had become fun again. At that time, Ammu was barely three. I took full advantage of being the eldest in the gang, cheated, and challenged them on adventures in which I was already an expert.

Being the lone girl among Grandma’s five grandchildren, I had done everything under the sun that elders insisted a girl should not do. I was a sprightly and mean thing according to my cousins. Nevertheless, we were always a team. We fought like cats but managed to love each other despite it. Even now when we were together, we were capable of bringing the roof down. Any place would instantly start to feel like home.

I had many nicknames, thanks to them.

I was ‘Cat’ owing to my gray eyes and sharp nails, name given by Kishore my eldest cousin.

Due to my pale skin and ability to climb compound walls, Navneeth had christened me ‘Lizard’.

The most popular name was ‘Monkey’ because of my prowess in climbing trees. Nobody could beat me in that.

They were the reason that I became a tomboy. I hated girly stuff and dressed in trousers and t-shirts just like them. My wardrobe had more jeans and t-shirts than churidars or skirts. Bless those, who started the trend of girls dressing up like boys!

In my engineering class, I was the odd one in a class overflowing with gorgeous girls. Did I regret that? No. Boys were better off as friends. They had no interest in me. It was not that I was ugly. Just that my lack of feminine graces drove them away. I was merely their tomboy friend with weird colored eyes.

“How long is your vacation this time, Anu?” Deepak’s question ended my reverie.

“I will be here till the 18th of July.” Enthusiastic cheers from the trio greeted my answer.

We spent the rest of the evening merrily exchanging news and I distributed the gifts that I had brought for them from Bangalore. Ammu squealed with delight when I gave her a box full of colorful hair clips and bindies in varied designs. Achyuth rushed out to fill his water gun from the courtyard pipe, which was his gift. I had brought a box of Oil pastels for Deepak. We shared a common passion for Arts. Grandma came out onto the portico then, where we had settled onto to the decorative wooden benches that bordered it, to break up the cozy get together.

“It is getting dark, kids. You can continue with your talks tomorrow. Anu is not going anywhere for the next one month. Run before your parents arrive with a stick.”

At the mention of their parents, they bundled out of our house chattering excitedly promising to come the next day.

The rest of the night passed in unpacking and settling into my room. Devi, Gopu’s wife, who was also the household help, had cleaned and prepared my room. The fragrance of Sambrani, a kind of incense, that she had lit to freshen up the room still lingered. The cupboards smelled of mothballs, the window curtains were new. The monsoons had cooled down the temperature and a thick blanket, folded into a perfect rectangle, lay at the foot of my bed. Grandma must have come to inspect the settings a hundred times, being a perfectionist. Her love was evident in every little thing that was present in the house. It was soothing to be back in the house. Something unwounded from within, the moment I entered it.

Right after dinner I fell into my bed exhausted, unaware of the twist my life was about to take.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

It is your power to reduce to nothingness even a mighty river, your ferocious nature that nobody wants to fight against. Even mother earth bows humbly when you talk about the necessity of a change and burns nonchalantly in your furnace seeking purity. But you accept your own fate so humbly and welcome the rains with pertichor, a fragrance that melts even a heart of stone.

You arrive, apologizing for the destruction and despair that begin to spread. You leave filling us with warm memories. Something in you makes we humans want to look into our selves. We take off on rejuvenating vacations, calm our souls in the lap of majestic oceans or seek the cool shades of mango graves.

The sweetest fruits you gift us, and the longest days to cherish. Every child welcomes summer for it brings in the much awaited summer break.

And for the romantic, every summer changes them a bit. Every summer begins a new story, kindles a new spark.

For the lovers, your message is to enjoy every second, the days are longer, and the nights full of promises. The sound universe blossoms with a hundred bird-songs, the calm lullabies of the ocean and the caress of the evening breeze laden with fragrance of the queen of the night and jasmines.

You remind me that even in the coldest winter nights, I can await you. Even in the depths of despair that clouds my life like winter, you kindle a fire within me reminding me that you reside in me, the invincible summer. The ice of despair thaws with that reassurance and the cool water that emerges soothes my soul.

Remain this time dear summer, to renew and rejuvenate. Remind me that the cruelest winters are powerless when I am your muse.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

“Your hand opens and
closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and
expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.”

Sunday, April 19, 2015

For every writer, it is a dream to see his/her book
published. My dream is about to come true.

My debut novel “Without You” is being published by Write
India Publishers and the release date is first week of May 2005.

I am so excited and I want blessings from all of you. Continue
to encourage me with your love.

This is the cover of my Novel.

Blurb:

When Ananya, a bubbly
twenty-year-old engineering student, reaches her Grandmother’s house in
Sreepuram on a month long vacation, romance is the last thing on her mind.
However, she meets Dr. Arjun there and falls head over heels in love.

As it often happens, the
path of true love never runs smooth. Circumstances force them apart even though
they were madly in love. She becomes a victim of depression. When everything
fails to return her to normalcy, help arrives from an unexpected source.

Will she ever find happiness
again? Will time allow her heart to heal and forget Arjun? What indeed is true
love?

Travel with Ananya to the
picturesque Sreepuram, face the chaos of Bengaluru, and relish the warmth of
magical Dubai in this heartwarming tale of love, betrayal, friendship, and
miracles.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

I have been in love with technology since childhood. I crave
for the latest technology and if I can afford it, I go for it without delay.

But what makes a smart phone so coveted by everyone? For me,
the ease with which I can connect with the world is what endears it to me the
most. I can easily contact my friends via social media, browse for data and
save the details to be checked later. I can even book mark web pages that I
want to visit again and again. But what comes in the way is that many smart
phones has very low RAM and hence has low browsing speeds. My smart phone also
takes a hell a lot of time to get charged. My smart phone gives me high quality
pictures but night time photos are of very bad quality.

It is the world’s 1st smartphone with a 4 GB RAM. The device
has a unique ASUS-exclusive technology that charges devices much faster than
traditional speeds. This means that the new ZenFone 2, battery gets charged up to 60% in
no more than 39 minutes. The ASUS Zenfone 2 PixelMaster camera that captures
stunning, high-resolution photos with zero shutter lag. The industry-leading
Low Light mode employs pixel-merging technology to capture up to 400% brighter
photos at night, or in low-light scenes, without the need for a flash. It seems
my dreams are coming true. What else can I wish for?

My reasons:

1.72% screen to body ratio.That too the prize would be affordable and I have
started saving to buy this magical phone as soon as it is launched. I want to
experience the maximum that any smartphone can give using the ASUS ZenFone2.

2.I believe in the company. I have an ASUS Eeebook and I am impressed by its
performance. I am sure this will also be awesome.

3.Hairline Body finish.I can’t wait to get my hands on this awesome
phone. May be I can gift it to my husband on his birthday. He has been forever
complaining about his own phone that has low browsing speed and the camera is
also not of good quality.

4.4 GB RAM.My own phone has 2 GB RAM and its speed is not
bad. So I can imagine how fast the browsing speed of the new Zen Fone 2 will
be. I will check this out as soon as possible.

5.13/5 MP Rear/ front Camera. I also want to use the features of the phone to
capture better photographs and use it for my blog in an effective manner. I can
use it to enhance my blogposts and like any other blogger, I can show off my
photography skills.

I want to explore all the new possibilities that a new phone
can offer. I will use it mainly for furthering my blogging and writing career.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

I wandered among the meadows in search butterflies. I wanted
them to return, wasn’t spring just round the corner?

I couldn’t wait for the spring to inundate the air with the fragrance
of blossoms. I couldn’t wait to hear the birdsong emanating from the flower
trees. I sighed and looked around seeking signs that my favourite time of the year was arriving. The
trees around were sprouting leaves, the snow over the peaks in the horizon was
melting.

A little down the valley, I found a patch of green grass,
which were merrily peeking out from the barren ground. Something stirred among
them and a host of dragonflies flew away from the patch when I bent down to
caress the grass. I smiled.

Then I saw her.

A tiny fairy was running from grass to grass hugging the
blades and kissing them. She hadn’t noticed my presence.

‘What are you doing?” I blurted out without realizing that
my voice might scare her away.

She froze upon
hearing me and then slowly turned to face me. She fluttered her transparent
wings like a butterfly and flew up towards me with her arms akimbo. With her
eyes narrowed down into slits and lips slightly pouting, she was a sight to
behold.

“Can’t you just allow us to work? If you want spring to
arrive when it should, leave us alone,” she shouted at me. Man, she was clearly
furious.

“What did I do now?” I asked, puzzled by her anger. I opened
up my palm and she landed on it but continued to glare at me.

“You scared away all my other friends. We have to give care
and warmth to a million grass blades today itself. Grasses are very vain.
Without fairy kisses, they sulk and go back to sleep beneath the earth. I know
that you are a harmless kid. But others think you are like the rest of humans —cruel
and selfish,” she said, pouting and sulking a little more.

“I am so sorry. I wasn’t sure you people existed. I beg your
pardon. None of my friends believes in fairies. They say it is all just myth,”
I said trying to make her understand. Instead, she gasped and almost fainted.

Recovering she shouted again, “When a child says that she
doesn’t believe in fairies, there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. Tell
your mule headed friends,” said she, fluttered towards the grasses, and
continued hugging the grasses. A while later her friends returned and joined
her.

They ignored me completely. I smiled and continued to watch
them get busy preparing the earth to welcome spring.

The scene vanished when I felt a kiss on my cheeks and I
opened my eyes to see my mother smiling fondly at me.

“Do you know what happens when my baby smiles in her sleep?”
she asked.

“A new fairy is born somewhere on fairy hill,” I said and
smiled again, remembering my lovely dream.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Sanjay was an enigma to Payal. She didn’t understand why he always
reserved a seat for her in the college bus next to him and then kept mum
throughout the journey. He would always be busy reading books on his kindle.
She wondered why he was named as chatterbox in his gang when she had hardly
heard him speak. A few syllables accompanied by hand gestures was all the
response she could elicit from him. She hated him and his silence.

Then came the day when they were paired as Darcy and
Elizabeth in the drama of Pride and Prejudice as part of an ongoing literary
fest in their college.

“My feelings won’t be repressed. Please allow me to tell you
how ardently I love you… ,” Sanjay said enacting Mr. Darcy to perfection during
the rehearsals.

The light that shone in his eyes kindled a spark somewhere
inside her heart and secretly she began to consider him as her own Darcy.

The constant interactions made her re-discover Sanjay, her
senior by two years, and everyday brought in new revelations. One day she learnt
that he was a good singer and the next day she learnt that he was their class
topper. When he joined in with his guitar for the onstage chorus, she adored
the musician in him. Every day she wondered what surprise he had in store for
her that day.

On the day of the drama, she was tense as it was her first
stage performance. He spent time with her cracking jokes and complimenting her
about her looks, she wondered what had made him so eloquent. Was he trying to
put her at ease? The Victorian gown was making her feel like a cow. But Sanjay
looked handsome even in tailcoats and vests and every moment she fell a little more in love with him.

“You have bewitched me
body and soul. I love ...love you. Will you marry me Miss Bennet?” said Mr
Darcy and Elizabeth nodded. As he leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth, the lights
on stage dimmed and the curtains came down announcing the end of the Drama.

The lights came on a little later amid thunderous applause and all the actors came on
stage to take the final bow. Mr. Darcy was still holding Elizabeth’s arms and
all the other members of the team had a mischievous sparkle in their eyes.

Behind the curtains, in the dark, Mr. Darcy had sealed the
promise with a kiss. From that moment, Sanjay had ceased to be an enigma to
Payal.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

With a smile on her face, she ticked off the last item on
her bucket list, which had 101 items to accomplish before she died.

Taking a five-year sabbatical from her hectic job as a top
marketing professional, she had roamed the world, met with people at various corners
of the world, and even published a best-seller novel based on her travels.

In the deserted lanes of Palestine, she had met Arnold, the
famous American photographer who courted trouble and desired her.

She didn’t want chains, she wanted to be a free bird and
couldn’t allow even love to clip her wings- they parted as friends.

Deciding what to do next, she fired her laptop with glee and
opened the Google search page to prepare a new list; it was time to name new
desires, discover new goals.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Holi, the festival of colours was Radha’s favourite festival
and she always loved the ambience of colours that it brought into her world.

Today when her neighbourhood kids splashed buckets full of colour on her and dragged her out to join them in splashing colours on everyone, she
did not know that miles away, the best colours from her life were slowly draining
out with every passing second.

Two miles away from the border, Sanjay shot the last
infiltrator in front of him before succumbing to the injuries that the enemy
bullets had given him.

His fingers alone moved for a few minutes as though he was
searching to find the warmth of his loved one while he was bidding farewell.

His soul broke free from the pain and trauma, rushed towards
Radha and took in the beauty of his wife’s laughter, the lovely colours that adorned
her, all the while appealing to the Gods
to keep her bathed in colours till eternity.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Blurb: " Pitch dark. Extreme Silence. Felt like vacuum. I opened my eyes and found nothing familiar. Where am I? First of all, who am I? Ashruth says I was head over heels in love with him. He says our wedding was fixed. But there is no trace of love for him in me. I don t remember anything. Why would I have loved this pumpkin? San was drunk but I got intoxicated. I had fallen for him gradually. I can t imagine marrying anyone else. But how do I stop my wedding now? Don t say I am dead. I am all alive, standing right in front of you. I am not dead. Trust me. And the secret comes to light. Just you, me and a secret -A battle between past, present and the nothing called future"

Just You, Me and a Secret,
is a book that is intriguing from the word go. There are many ingredients that
made me finish reading the book in a single sitting. It is a thriller, a
romance and it is well written.

When the protagonist Meera
wakes up in a hospital room with a memory wiped clean, she struggles to deal
with the revelations that comes to her one after the other. Ashruth, the doctor
to whom she is engaged tries to make her understand the circumstances of their
relationship. She finds it difficult to believe that she had fallen in love
with Ashruth as she cannot find anything that convinces that she could have
fallen in love with the silly man. Even after her personal diary reveals the
secrets one after the other, she is battling with her own inner voice, which
screams that something is just not right.

Why does she feel attracted to her
cousin Santhosh? Why does her own parents appear like strangers to her? Meera
battles with her past to find the reasons that will allow her to be at peace
with her present. At the end, a Secret that has in its power the ability to
destroy many lives emerges.

Memories are what make a
life worthwhile. When those moments vanish from one’s mind’s eye, everything
appears vague and senseless. Meera’s battle to find herself, her identity, forms
the crux of the novel.

Ganga Bharani, a debut
author, has done ample justice to her work. She manages to hold the attention
of the reader with a clear and crisp narrative. She also throws in surprises
which makes the reader turn pages one after the other. A great achievement for
a debut novelist.

Enter this giveaway
contest where you can win copies of the book Just, You, Me and a Secret.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Anne waited for her email to ping the whole day on Friday.
It stayed silent, killing her hopes as each second ticked away. Even when she
closed her tiny office at the end of the day, the email had maintained its
status quo.

Had that small fight the day before escalated into something
from where there was no return? She regretted the words she had spoken; she
regretted the words she didn’t say.

As Joseph had switched off his mobile, she had shot off many
emails asking for forgiveness. After all, she hadn’t known that Joseph had
planned to take her on a weekend trip to his home with a purpose. She had
fought with him instead saying she had made different plans already with her
girl pals. One thing had led to another and Joseph had stomped off from their
house after she accused him of being a heartless monster who was bent on making
her life miserable.

She hadn’t known then that he had intended to propose to her
at his family home. They had even arranged an engagement party. When Joseph’s mother had called and confessed
about her disappointment at the cancelled plans, Anne had cursed herself for
not understanding the man she loved more than anything in the world. It didn’t
matter now that she was the one always eager to be wed.

Every passing hour tortured her and she waited eagerly for
her mobile to ring, for the sound of his key turning in the lock. She opened
his wardrobe and hugged his shirts, remembering how it felt to be embraced by
him.

The weekend dragged past and by Sunday night, Anne was
miserable.

Early next morning, Anne woke up and felt a familiar warmth next to her. Her Joseph had
returned and he was lying next to her with his hands caressing her face and his
face nuzzling her neck. She wept and then hugged him with all the love she felt.

“Never again, darling. I am sorry. These past three days
were a torture for me. I missed you and I love you,” she whispered amidst tears
and sobs.

“Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes
the small, it inflames the great. I love you more now than ever,” he said and
pulled her closer.